


Wrong

by ProblemWithTrouble



Series: Pacific Rim [2]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Time, M/M, Mentions of Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-03 22:26:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17292599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProblemWithTrouble/pseuds/ProblemWithTrouble
Summary: It wasn’t shock at the two spots of black ink that brought Newt to a screeching stop. He had already had the shock of his life when Hermann had stepped close and kissed him hard when Newt made a joke about his first drift with the Kaiju while they were packing their offices. No it wasn’t shock at a tattoo on the pale skin of Hermann’s inner thigh that had Newt stoping in the middle of pulling Hermann’s pants off. It was the deep and unfamiliar sensation of wishing he had been wrong.





	Wrong

Newt had spent years pining and mooning and every other word for nerds who couldn’t get over their first unrequited love. Tendo had heard his fair share about it, as had his father, and his uncle, and Jen his tattoo artist in California. Through more effort than any of his elementary school teachers had thought him capable he had managed to lock it away when he was around Hermann himself. 

It was too dangerous to let even a fraction of his feelings loose in front of him. He was too observant and kept too close of a critical eye on Newt to miss it. Tendo maintained that he was shitty at it and everyone who had ever seen the two interact for more than ten minutes knew that Newt was head-over-heels. Newt argued that Hermann would have brought it up if he figured it out. There was no doubt in his mind that the second Hermann put it together he’d want to cut it down and tell Newt to get ahold of himself. Tendo had told him that he had met squirrels with more intelligence than the two supposed geniuses. 

All that pining had meant years of putting his mind to the task of imagining exactly what it would be, could be like. He imagined that the arm that Hermann used with his cane would be toned if not a little buff. He’d be thin and boney with a blush that spread all across his body when Newt told him he was the most beautiful thing that Newt had ever seen. 

There might be scars from past surgeries trying to ease his pain. Maybe a scattering of moles on his back that Newt could trace once he was asleep, naming consolations in the patterns after the many moments that Newt had been forced to re-evaluate just how in love he was. Maybe there'd be five arranged in what Newt could pretend looked like a coffee mug that Newt would think of as Tea after the time Hermann had done a spit-take at one of Newt's jokes, followed directly by a lot of indignant squawking. Or maybe there were a few that circled another that Newt could think of as Sunshine, a reminder of the time Hermann had taken a walk with him outside in crisp autumn air with the sun lapping over them and Hermann and turned his face up to embrace it. 

He had also considered the possibility of tattoos. Hermann had never shown an actual distaste for his tattoos outside of their subject matter. If there was going to be any they’d be no more than a few inches across and there’d be no more than six. A Star Fleet emblem or a line of code were the most likely. It would be classy and probably in grayscale if anything more than plain black. 

So it wasn’t shock at the two spots of black ink that brought Newt to a screeching stop. He had already had the shock of his life when Hermann had stepped close and kissed him hard when Newt made a joke about his first drift with the Kaiju while they were packing their offices. No it wasn’t shock at a tattoo on the pale skin of Hermann’s inner thigh that had Newt stoping in the middle of pulling Hermann’s pants off. It was the deep and unfamiliar sensation of wishing he had been wrong. 

“Newton?” Hermann asked, his voice quiet and with the beginnings of the tone he used when he was in a fit of righteous anger, usually fueled by some sort of embarrassment that Newt has subjected him to. 

“I, uh,” Newt started like the words had been pulled out of him along with all the air in the room. “I didn’t know.” He knew the skin would feel like any other patch but he still felt the urge to reach out and touch it. The semicolon stared back at him. 

“There’s no reason you would,” Hermann said looking genuinely confused at Newt’s distress. 

The semicolon sat halfway between Hermann’s hip and knee a little to the inside of his thigh, a rough approximation of where his femoral artery was. Newt looked around on his own tattoos. Right over his own heart, in the brow and teeth of the kaiju on his chest he was still able to make out the outlines of his own semicolon. “I had to cover it up for the design but Jen was able to leave it noticeable if you knew what you were looking for.”

Hermann sat up and Newt tried not to be too obvious when he slid forward so he was sitting in Hermann’s lap. “I didn’t know either,” Hermann said, his fingertip lightly tracing it. 

Newt shivered. “There’s no reason you would.”

Hermann made a face like he had bit into a lemon and Newt tried not to laugh. “If I were a better friend...”

Newt cut him off. “If we were better friends we probably wouldn’t be doing this. Something about not risking said friendship,” Newt said, rolling his eyes. “Besides that makes us even.”

“I suppose,” Hermann said, his fingers starting to trace the lines of the rest of the tattoos. Slowly, like he might spook Newt he leaned forward to kiss the covered tattoo. 

Warmth that had been sitting in Newt's chest ever since Hermann had lead him back to his room by the hand expanded in his chest and filled every part of him. He had the urge to kiss every inch of Hermann and made a good start by going back to kissing his mouth. Kisses trailed down his neck and chest to Hermann’s bad hip where Newt sucked a hickey with boney fingers running through his hair. 

Newt continued down to Hermann’s knee, lips never leaving the skin as he pressed kisses every time he moved. Then he continued back up and pressed a long kiss to the tattoo. A flash of fear filled his at the prospect that there was a possibility that Hermann might not be in his life. That if the multiverse theory was true then there was in fact a Newt somewhere that had mourned the man he had been quietly in love with for years. Or worse, that there was a version of himself who never got to meet Hermann at all, a version of himself that was oblivious the the existence and passing of the best man in the world, of his other half. Newt pressed another kiss with the promise that he would do everything in his power to make sure it was the last scar Hermann ever gave himself. 

“Newton?” Hermann sounded worried but Newt couldn’t comfort him. The only words he had couldn’t be said when they hadn’t even discussed what they were. Professions of love the first time you have sex was uncool. Unless Hermann wanted to do that and then it was the coolest thing ever. 

Instead Newt wrapped his hands around the band of Hermann’s boxers and looked up with the question clear on his face. “Yes,” Hermann said. 

Newt didn’t bother to pull them all the way off Hermann’s legs or really any farther down than it took to get his mouth around his cock. 

“Newton,” Hermann sighed above him. Fingers that hadn’t stopped petting his hair gripped his hair tight and Newt groaned. Hermann didn’t seem to understand and removed his hand to grip the sheets instead. Newt looked up at him as he eased farther down but Hermann had his eyes screwed shut. 

Newt pulled off enough to talk. “Babe?”

“Yes, darling?” Hermann asked but didn’t open his eyes. Gently, Newt grabbed his hand from the sheet and moved it back into his hair. That made Hermann open his eyes. 

“I like it,” Newt said then went back to sucking. Hermann gripped his hair hard but never choked him. it was just a perfect tension that between it, the feeling of Hermann’s cock in his mouth and the quiet choked off noises that Hermann was making Newt really had no ability to resist the urge to stuff his hand down his pants and jerk himself off, making a game in his head, trying to time his orgasm perfectly with Hermann’s. 

Hermann’s warning was to pull on Newt’s hair harder in an attempt to pull him off. Newt came in his hand a second before Hermann’s come hit his chin. 

For a long minute Newt caught his breath with his forehead resting on Hermann’s good hip, after wiping his face off on what he had thought were sheets but with a second glance he confirmed was Hermann’s shirt. “Newton, did you?” Hermann started but cut himself off. 

“Oh come on, man. How could I not?” Newt said, trying not to feel embarrassed. “It was like, my exact fantasy.”

Hermann just stared at him for a long time then visibly got an idea. Post-orgasm Hermann was a lot more expressive and Newt failed not to fall farther in love with every easily read expression. “Then will you entertain a fantasy of mine?”

“Dude, I would fight a kaiju with my bare hands for you right now,” Newt said with a sigh, pulling himself up so he could lay next to Hermann. 

“That won’t be necessary, I like having you alive,” Hermann said. He adjusted them so Newt was laying flat on his back and Hermann was on his side had his head resting on Newton’s chest, his leg swung over Newt’s own legs. 

Newt had never felt so complete. “What’s this fantasy of yours?” Newt asked. 

“For you to be quiet for twenty minutes so I can get some sleep,” Hermann said. Newt could feel Hermann's grin against his chest. 

Instead of any verbal response Newt kissed the top of Hermann’s head. He had never been so grateful to live in his own universe.

**Author's Note:**

> I love these two so much. 
> 
> The semicolon tattoos are in reference to attempted/considered suicides. They represent a point in your life where you could end it but chose to continue. I have the same tattoo that Hermann has here, in the same spot. I wrote this after I was talking to my siblings and found out that three out of four of them have this tattoo as well. When we're in our deepest depressions we all believe that we're alone but no one is. 
> 
> If you're having suicidal thoughts/ideation please call 1-800-273-8255 (USA) or [go here for a list of suicide prevention hotlines all around the world. ](http://ibpf.org/resource/list-international-suicide-hotlines) You deserve to be alive too.


End file.
